


Love Actually (Is All Around)

by FalineEvans



Series: Love Actually [1]
Category: Little Mix (Band), Love Actually (2003), One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, Kid!Fic, Love Actually - Freeform, M/M, Multi, Other, shitty Christmas AU adaptions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 20:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalineEvans/pseuds/FalineEvans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, alternatively, 'Five Weeks 'Til Christmas'.</p><p>"Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion's starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don't see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. If you look for it, I've got a sneaking suspicion... love actually is all around. "</p><p>Heavily based on the 2003 Film 'Love Actually' (and I mean heavily).</p><p>Because 'Tis the Season for shitty Christmas AUs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Actually (Is All Around)

**Author's Note:**

> I've merged quite a few storylines because I just couldn't find enough people to fill eight couples with extras here and there. Some of the characters are a little odd and I had to compromise quite a bit but I don't think the end product's too terrible? (Please let me know if it is, though!) Basic character description summary type thing below.
> 
> And yeah so hope you enjoy ^.^ {Merry Christmas to all, etc. Or, you know; Merry Apocalypse.}
> 
> x
> 
> Harry's in over his head with a new job and a new apartment and if that wasn't enough, a new kid. He doesn't know what Gemma was thinking but he can't exactly yell at her now.
> 
> Louis's scared shitless because there must be some kind of mistake - he's just a quirky teenager with a few radical ideas - he's not prime minister material... Though if it means getting to see a little more of his new assistant, he doesn't mind so much.
> 
> Zayn's just gotten married to the most beautiful woman in the world and he's happy, he really is... But he can't understand why Perrie's best friend hates him so much and he feels like he's letting her down. 
> 
> Liam's NOT in love with his best friend and he doesn't want to have to deal with those sorts of questions when he's reduced to making gay porn to pay for his photography course (which will probably get him bugger-all anyway).
> 
> Niall's finding time amongst his many jobs to mourn the fact that his really attractive, really sweet co-star is probably not even gay.
> 
> And everyone else? Well, they're just trying to get by.

 

 

"I feel it in my fingers,

I feel it in my toes,

Love is all around me

And so the feeling grows-"

 

"I'm afraid you've done it again, Ed."

The music stopped abruptly and Ed groaned, peeling off his headphones where the plastic stuck to his ears. They'd been at this for  _hours_.

"I'm sorry," he sighed, running a hand back through his hair, frustrated. "It's just - I know the old version so  _well_ , you know?"

Niall grinned from where he was lazing about in the sound booth, the Irish wanker that he was. Ed wondered why he ever did pay him, sometimes.

Not that he paid him well, really. Or even often. Niall and him had been mates since the dawn of time, and Ed knew the kid enjoyed his job as manager/sound-engineer/genius extraordinaire enough to keep it as a job, even if it was taking up valuable free time. Ed never had met anyone else that useless who could hold so many jobs; he'd literally lost count.

"We all do, mate," Niall was holding back laughter and - fuck - Ed really was going to kill the kid one day. "That's why we're making the new one. From the top?"

The ginger man nodded, pulling Niall's crappy headphones back up and over his ears, adjusting them so that they didn't melt off all his skin in the process. Cheap shitting equipment.

 

 

 

"I feel it in my fingers,

I feel it in my toes,

Love is all around me

And so the feeling-

Oh! Fuck wank bugger shitting arse head and hole! "

 

Niall cackled in the booth as all three backup singers turned to eye him accusingly. Fuck. Ed needed a beer. Flipping off the Irish fucker distractedly, Ed took ahold of the microphone with both hands, determined. "Start over again," he barked at Niall.

The music started and Ed took a deep breath.

 

 

"I feel it in my fingers,

I feel it in my toes,

Christmas is all around me-

Niall cheered, giving him the thumbs up.

"And so the feeling grows.

It's written in the wind,

And everywhere I go,

So if you really love Christmas.

Come on and let it snow-"

 

Ed took off his headphones, giving Niall a look. "This is bullshit, isn't it?" he scowled.

Niall grinned. "Pure gold bullshit, man," he laughed. "Trust a leprechaun - this is our pot of gold."

 

+

Harry Styles yawned, dropping his coat by the study door as he made for his desk. Dragging the back of his hand across his eyes, he listened for the steadily-growing familiar trot of his nephew – now adopted son, he supposed – to the living room, waiting for the television to be turned on. Harry smiled slightly when he heard the box come to life, stepping towards his desk chair and promptly collapsing onto it.

Gemma had been gone for a month now.

He shook his head to clear it, running a hand back through his messy curls and biting down on his bottom lip. He didn’t like thinking about this whole –  _thing._ But in the evenings, when he was exhausted and a little in shock, he really couldn’t help it.

Harry didn’t really know how to deal with it, to be perfectly honest. He hadn’t always been that close to his sister – she’d been pretty and popular and he’d been her dorky little brother – but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. He really couldn’t believe he’d never see her again; her cheeky comments and her silly-face-photos and the way she used to sing him lullabies when he was younger and couldn’t sleep. The way she still sang lullabies to Jake when he couldn’t sleep.

Or. The way she had.

Harry hadn’t been stupid. He’d been seventeen when Gemma had gotten herself pregnant; he’d heard what some people had called her. And yeah, before that, he'd known her a little; she let him stay up past his bedtime when she looked after him and didn't tease him for watching Peter Pan long past the socially acceptable age.

But after, when Gemma had begged their Mum with everything she had to let her keep the baby, after, he couldn’t ever hate her.

He didn’t even hate her now. Not really.

He was just so confused.

Why, out of all the people in the world, had Gemma left Jake to him?

Him. Harry. Her dorky little brother.

He couldn’t make heads nor tails of it.

And now that he was moving towns and working late nights and early mornings preparing to become an assistant for the new prime minister… It was all too, too much, really, and he was a little worried that he’d fuck it up for himself, and a  _lot_ worried that he’d fuck it up for Jakey. He was his uncle, yeah, but hell, he was still a kid himself most nights and he didn’t know how to be a parent.

He missed Gemma – a lot. He missed his big sister, and he couldn’t understand why Jake was left to him and not Mum or even her horrible boyfriend – he’d understand that over him. He wasn’t ready to do this. Not on his own.

And Jake had been looking so sad lately and he wouldn’t talk to him and Harry didn’t know what was up and he couldn’t ask him because he didn’t know  _how_ – how did little kids even work? He wasn’t good at kids; never had been really. He’d just been letting Jake have his own space but that couldn’t be right – it didn’t feel right.

How was he meant to comfort Jake and let him know that it was okay when he wasn’t sure if it was okay himself? Harry didn’t know what to do without Gemma there, and he couldn’t kid himself or his nephew – son – into thinking he could.

With a steady sigh, he picked up the phone, dialling a number he knew well and waiting for her to pick up.

+

“Hold on for a second, Hazz?”

Jai Tomlinson carefully wiped the excess pasta sauce on the edge of the pot, placing the wooden spoon on the counter top. She pressed the receiver to her shoulder as she wiped her hands free of spaghetti Bolognese, smearing the messy stuff onto her apron. With a sigh that was equal parts exasperated and amused, she turned to where her daughter was insistently tugging at her jumper, mouthing excited gibberish at her frantically.

“Daisy, what is it, Dear?” she repressed a smile, raising both eyebrows and squeezing the phone to her arm. “Harry’s on the phone – did you want to talk to him?”

“Mummy I need to _tell_ you something,” Daisy replied, still tugging at the material of Jai’s top.

“I gathered,” Jai laughed. Wrinkling her nose, she tilted her head at her. “Aren’t you going to tell me whatever it is?”

“No but it’s  _important,_ ” the girl whined, pouting at her. “Can’t you call Harry back later?”

Jai’s eyebrows rose further and she swatted at her daughter playfully. “Cheeky,” she berated laughingly, holding up a finger to her lips and “I’m awfully sorry Harry – I think I’m going to have to call you back. Take care of yourself, Sweetheart, yeah? Tell me if you want me to come around…”

Harry insisted that he really was fine – he wasn’t – and she pretended she believed him – she didn’t – making him promise that he’d come around when he got to London – it was likely that he wouldn’t.

With a sigh, Jai pressed the ‘end call’ button, now turning full attention to her excitable eight year old (who had, as it happened, resorted to pseudo chicken dancing impatiently).

“Now what is this big, important news you have to tell me?” Jai asked her, crouching down and smiling fondly.

Daisy grinned widely, giving a little squeal and shaking her messy blonde hair out of her eyes. “We found out what part we got in the nativity play today!” she chirped, clasping her hands together.

“That  _is_ exciting!” Jai grinned, pulling a shocked face. Daisy nodded frantically, giving a little dance. “And…?” she patted a little drumroll on her jeans in anticipation.

“I’m the lobster!” Daisy cheered.

“A lobster?” Jai repeated, attempting to keep the scepticism out of her tone.

Her daughter nodded seriously. “The  _first_ lobster,” she emphasized importantly, even giving a little bow.

Jai coughed. “There was more than one lobster at the birth of Jesus?”

Daisy opened her mouth to explain, before an identical blonde hurtled in, capturing her attention immediately. Shifting away from her mother as she reached out to smooth her uniform down, Daisy linked arms with Phoebe, the two of them lapsing into a spontaneous waltz. There was a poisonous-looking green patch on the left leg and they were starting to smell… Jai suspected they needed a good wash.

“Are you a lobster too, Phoebe?” she asked her other daughter politely, biting back a laugh. Oh she’d have to tell Louis about this one.

“I can’t be in the chorus this year,” Phoebe replied as though that should have been obvious.

“Phoebe’s in the  _choir_ , Mummy,” Daisy put in seriously.

“Right, of course,” Jai said quickly. “However could I have forgotten?” Laughing when both nodded earnestly, she stood, ruffling Phoebe’s hair and kissing the top of Daisy’s head. “How about you two go get changed out of your grubby school clothes and then we’ll ring your brother and let him know, hmm?”

The two girls squealed, racing each other up the stairs immediately – whoever reached the landing first got to talk to Louis first – and Jai laughed, shaking her head. The two of them sure did love their brother.

She frowned worriedly, reminding herself to ask him how he was going. She’d opted not to tell Louis and Harry about each other; the last thing she needed was for Harry to think she’d had something to do with him getting the job. The poor boy was in a right state, left with his sister’s child so young, though he was determined not to be ‘a charity case’, as he put it. He’d earned the job right and good, and he truly did deserve it.

Lou had met Gemma a couple of times; that was how Jai had met Harry in the first place. Gemma had babysat the girls all the time when they were just babies and Louis was off at university. Louis never managed to catch Harry, though – something that Jai was grateful for now. The boy had been a few years behind, focused on his own studies and then his sister’s unexpected pregnancy.

Harry had come by late one night to pick up Gemma and consequently ended up staying another three hours to talk with Jai over tea and biscuits and Coldplay. She saw the similarities between the quiet but charismatic teenager and her son – the two of them both had a strong, unexpected interest in politics, and a kind-heartedness about them that was both surprising and wonderful – and had immediately taken him under her wing.

She knew they’d get along as it was anyway; Louis’s good nature and Harry’s genuine one were sure to rub the other the right way.  She just hoped they wouldn’t find out about how close the two really were before Harry managed to find his feet again. It must be tough, really, being left with an eight year old when you were only twenty-five and with no partner to speak of.

A thought occurred to her and Jai stopped stirring the pasta sauce, blinking.

“Daisy?” she called worriedly. “However am I supposed to make a lobster costume?”

+

Perrie chewed her lip fretfully, glancing at herself in the glass behind her. She really had thought the dress was made for her in the store – goodness, was her stomach really that big? – and what if Caitlin or Safaar were to step on her train and trip – and-

“Calm down, Pez, you’ll be right, Love,”

The blonde girl bit her lip, looking up at her best mate worriedly. Liam’s expression mirrored some of the tension she was feeling, though a warm smile spread across his lips and twinkled in his eyes. She allowed herself to relax a little, stepping forward and enveloping him in a big hug.

“Thanks, Li,” she murmured into his shoulder, exhaling a long breath. “For looking out for me.”

Liam chuckled into her hair, giving her a tight squeeze. “Any time,” he promised.

Perrie nodded, stepping back and smoothing over her dress, top teeth finding her bottom lip again. “No surprises?” she checked.

“None at all,” Liam confirmed.

“Not like the hens’ night?” she raised her eyebrows sceptically.

Liam guffawed. “Not like the hens’ night,” he nodded, grinning.

“Are we right in agreeing the prostitute was a bad idea?” she mock-glared at him, a smile twitching at the corner of her mouth.

“I guess it was, yeah,” Liam admitted, wrinkling his nose. “Think Jade and I probably bit off a bit more than we could chew right there.”

“If you’re referring to the fact that she accidentally hired a girl,” Perrie reminded him with a small laugh, rolling her eyes.

“Could have been for me, couldn’t it?” Liam teased, eyes twinkling.

“No it couldn’t and you know it, Payne,” she grinned back, whacking him with her bouquet. She linked arms with him, breathing out a nervous sigh as she heard the music, Ruth moving in front of her.

“You’ll be fine,” Liam whispered to her again.

And then she was walking down the aisle, being given away by her best friend in the entire world. Walking up to the man she loved. Perrie nervously lifted her gaze, freezing when her eyes met Zayn’s smiling ones. She grinned fully, squeezing Liam’s arm at her side. It was perfect.

+

Liam lied.

He had, as it happened, arranged for a guest appearance to sing for Zayn and Perrie at the end of the ceremony; a fancy wedding singer to perform  _Let Me Love You_ by Mario. It was all very tastefully done, if he did say so himself; the performers emerged from the crowd, lots of nice harmonies and the like. A few back up dancers here and there; Perrie’s friend Jade from university had helped choreograph the whole thing and it had gone down a right treat, really; they had looked thunderstruck – in a good way. At least, Liam hoped it was in a good way.

And now he was stuck watching them through the lens of a camera on the side of the dance floor.

Not that he was pining, of course. He didn’t pine. And certainly not for someone newly married.

“Are you in love with her?”

Liam jumped as a boy with blonde hair and an Irish accentsettled herself beside him, crossing his legs and clutching a beer with both hands. From the warm glow on his cheeks and the hesitance in his step, Liam privately thought he probably ought to stop drinking, but it was a wedding, and he recognised him as probably Perrie’s friend, so he kept his thoughts to himself.

“Not at all,” Liam said firmly, shaking his head. He zoomed in on the couple, biting his lip when he got a particularly good angle.  

The blonde raised both eyebrows, shrugging. “Suit yourself,” he nodded, taking a gulp of his beer. “Thought I’d better ask in case you wanted to – you know – talk. How d’you know her anyway?” he asked.

Liam shifted uncomfortably, not liking where this particular conversation was going. Zooming back out, he adjusted the focus to a safer spot. “We were in nappies together; our families are tight – look there’s my Mum with hers,” he gestured in the general vicinity where the two women were gossiping. “But trust me – I’m not in love with Perrie.”

“Alright, alright; don’t get your knickers in a knot,” the boy scoffed, waving the comment off.

“I do not wear knickers, and they’re not in a knot,” Liam replied stiffly, coughing. The blonde guffawed and Liam sighed. “How do you know Perrie anyhow, Irish?” he asked with a frown.

The blonde chuckled at the nickname. “Well I don’t really, do I?” he chuckled, raising both his eyebrows.

“Zayn, then?” Liam asked irritably. His eyes flickered back to the little display window on his camera at that moment, watching the boy in question through it and focusing the zoom on him.

“That the bloke?” Irish gestured with his beer bottle.

Liam blinked, affronted. “If you don’t know the bride or the groom, what on earth are you doing here?”

“Hired help,” he supplied as a response, gesturing to a nametag with the name ‘Neil’ crossed out and replaced with NIALLER, and then a tray Liam hadn’t seen behind him. “Want one?”

Liam shook his head and Neil – Nialler? – nodded in agreement, wrinkling his nose. “Yeah, they look a bit like dead babies’ fingers, innit?” He reached behind him and plucked one from the tray, biting the end off (much to Liam’s horror). Chewing thoughtfully, Nialler hummed, swallowing. “Tastes like it too.”

Liam coughed. “Ought you to be drinking on duty?” he asked, eyeing his beer bottle.

Nialler chuckled again, reaching forward and pinching his cheek fondly. “ ‘Ought you be drinking on duty’, he says,” he laughed, shaking his head. Then, adopting a serious expression, he turned to face Liam. “I ought always to be drinkin’, mate,” he winked.

“Your liver probably hates you,” Liam informed him. The DJ turned up the ‘couples mix’ and he resisted the urge to groan, instead, focusing and refocusing the zoom and fiddling with the filter on his camera some more.

“Aye,” Nialler acknowledged, inclining his head. “Can’t say I blame it. Why aren’t you drinking, then? Liver talkin’ for you? Take my advice and tell it who’s boss.”

“Kidneys, actually,” Liam corrected, wondering why he was still even having this conversation. “I only have one.”

“Doesn’t everybody?” Nialler asked confusedly, taking another large gulp of his beer bottle and – Liam really did not envy anyone whose job it was to clean up after this boy when he passed out later that night.

“One liver, two kidneys,” Liam told him helpfully, pressing the stop button on his film camcorder and flipping it shut. Zipping it up into its case, he bit his lip, feeling a little bad for Nialler. It wasn’t his fault this night wasn’t turning out to be… Not turning out at all.

“Just remembered I’ve got to tell my Mum something,” he murmured apologetically. He hesitated as Nialler's face fell, biting his lip. "I'll see you 'round, yeah?"

"Yeah," Nialler nodded, shrugging. 

Liam watched as he picked up the tray and his beer, heading back to the kitchen.

He didn't think he actually _would_.

 

 

+

"I've figured out why I don't have a girlfriend."

Niall rolled his eyes as he stepped back into the kitchen, dumping the tray on the bench and folding his arms. Leaning against the counter-top, he took a swig of beer, deciding to humour Josh (just this once).

"Why don't you have a girlfriend, Josh?" he asked his mate, cocking an eyebrow at him. 

"It's these bloody British women," the bloke scowled, attempting to knock Niall's beer out of his hands and failing abysmally. Josh drummed his fingers on the counter top, his own tray nowhere in sight. Niall suspected he'd eaten it all. "They're too uptight. And I personally prefer girls who are a bit more - you know - fun."

"Like?" Niall had a bad feeling about this.

Josh grinned. "American girls."

Niall groaned. "Josh..." he started, running a hand back through his hair. 

"No, no, hear me out," Josh insisted. "See, American girls are way less snooty than British birds; they'll right eat me up, with my cute British accent-"

"You don't have a cute British accent-"

"I'm going to America, Niall," he scowled. "I'm a sex god, I swear. I'm just on the wrong continent is all."

Niall shook his head at his mate. "Wait 'til Ed's track's down at least then?" he suggested. It wasn't as though Josh would go anyway; the kid was all talk. "You promised to lay down a drum track."

"Yeah, yeah, mate," Josh waved it off. "'Course. You know that's bullshit, right?" he raised his eyebrows at him.

Niall shrugged. "Solid gold bullshit," he yawned, gulping down another swig of beer. "And as Manager Sound Technician Genius Extraordinaire, it's my duty to recommend it."

"You have too many jobs, mate," Josh chuckled, shaking his head. "Even right there."

"And the two of you'll lose this one in a sec," Cher scowled as she walked past them, carrying two trays. She dumped one in front of Josh, holding the other with one hand as she fixed her bra strap. 

"You know only one of us is gay, right?" Niall checked, raising an eyebrow at her. 

"Yeah, yeah," she rolled her eyes. "And both of you will be fired in a sec. Back out before Miss Manager in there eats you alive."

Josh and Niall looked at each other, before shrugging and complying. 

It wasn't worth getting into a fight with Cher over. But then, very little was.

 

 

 +

Harry coughed, running a hand back through his hair. The whole church had gone silent as he stepped to the podium; the guests eyed him pityingly, whispering between themselves and glancing back and forth between him and Jakey. His adopted son was seated next to his mother in the front pew, staring blankly into his lap. Anne rubbed his shoulder comfortingly, sniffling quietly into a handkerchief. 

"Thank you all for coming," he started, resisting the urge to shove his hands in his pockets or run a hand back through his curls. He was a grown man and he'd taken charge of this and he needed to act like it. 

"Gemma would have loved to see you all here..." Well, perhaps not all of them. A few girlfriends who'd exiled her after they found out about Jake were in the back of the Church, crying into tissues... Harry couldn't help but hope they were guilty tears. 

"She was - a remarkable person, really," Harry continued, and - it was true, it really was. Even if he hadn't spent nearly enough time around his older sister, he knew she was a good, good person. 

"A really wonderful older sister." True, true, true and - Harry wasn't ready for this, not at all. 

"I remember, on Saturdays - when Mum'd go and have dinner with Robin - Gem used to look after me. She never coddled me or anything, never treated me like I was a baby. Never even called it 'babysitting'; if she mentioned it, she'd say she was 'supervising' me." Harry'd always loved that.

"She was good at looking after people. Even when I got too old for it, she'd let me eat tea in the lounge room even though we weren't allowed-" Harry glanced to Anne, but she was staring at the floor. "And watch Peter Pan with me. And then she'd come upstairs and read my favourite chapter to me and kiss me on the forehead, and pretend she didn't see the light under the door when I turned the lamp back on and read through it again."

A few people in the crowd smiled sadly and he spotted Jai there, her own sad smile on her lips. 

"She was brilliant at looking after Jake - she always was. Even when everyone told her nineteen was too young, she never listened. She knew it was her son in there, and she knew she had to look after him - and she did. She never stopped looking after him." 

A few tears rolled down Jake's face, but he didn't look up. 

"And I won't stop looking after him either." Harry ran a hand back through his hair anyway. 

"And I'm doing an awful job at this right now," Harry smiled slightly, biting his lip. "So I'll let Gemma farewell you in the way she'd have wanted."

He crossed to the iPod dock he'd set up in the back corner of the Church, fumbling with the controls. After a moment's silence - and hadn't he been  _terrified_ that it suddenly wouldn't work and what would Anne say and everyone would know he was just playacting and he couldn't look after anything or anyone at all - 'Hello Goodbye' by The Beatles came over the scratchy speakers and suddenly everyone was crying and laughing at the same time because if there was anything Gemma loved almost as much as looking after people, it was The Beatles. 

Harry wiped his cheek agressively as he went to sit next to Jake, curling an arm around his sister's son. 

 

 

_You say goodbye,_

_I say hello._

+

Liam fidgeted nervously as he watched people rush past him, feeling increasingly more uncomfortable my the second. One of the blokes in his photography class had given him the number, and he'd signed up, and it wasn't like he could even afford the class if he didn't pick up a decent-paying job, but  _this?_  This was way, way beyond his comfort zone. 

This was so out of his comfort zone it was, it was -

He didn't even _watch_ porn.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and jumped, whirling around with a gulp.

"Easy there," Leigh Anne, one of the Director's assistants, flashed a grin at him. "First time?" she asked curiously.

Liam's mouth went dry. "Yeah - well, obviously not - you know-" he stammered nervously.

The girl laughed and he relaxed a bit, giving her a sheepish smile. "First time for the porn, not for the, erm-"

"Sex?" Leigh Anne supplied. "You're 'right, Love. I'll introduce you to your co-star, yeah?" she smiled kindly at him. 

Liam nodded and she took his hand, leading the way. He thanked Leigh Anne mentally for not commenting on his sweaty hand, though he suspected she'd probably wash hers later. Coughing, Liam ducked his head, feeling his throat constrict. He stared at his shoes as he walked, feeling the blush rise in his cheeks as he followed her through, wondering if it wasn't really too late to pull out-

"Hey!"

Liam looked up and then almost groaned because - no - this was not happening - this was so not happening-

"Nialler," he managed to choke out with a smile that was really more of a grimace - though it wasn't as though he could help it really. 

Because it was him, of course it was him - the Irish lad he'd made a complete and utter fool of himself in front of the other night, and now he had to star in gay porn alongside him and - _fuck_ \- the universe really did hate him, didn't it?

"Mystery-Bloke!" the blonde cheered, clapping him on the shoulder like they were best mates. "Just Niall'll do if ya like. You never did tell me yer name, y'know," he added thoughtfully.

"You two know each other?" Leigh Anne asked and Liam opened his mouth to correct her, but Niall was faster (Liam hoped - but doubted - that this would not become habit).

"He's the bloke I's just tellin' you 'bout," Niall grinned and - wait, _what_? "From the wedding?"

_What??_

_  
_"My name's Liam," Liam offered uncomfortably. "And what were you-"

"The one in love with his best mate?" Leigh asked interestedly, looking up from her clipboard with her eyes raised.

WHAT?

Liam's eyes widened and he glared at Niall exasperatedly. "I'm not in love with Perrie-" he protested.

"Tha's the one," Niall agreed chirpily, ignoring him.

"Mate, what're you doin' making gay porn if you're in love with a  _girl_?" Leigh's eyebrows disappeared into her hair, an incredulous grin spreading across her face.

Liam wanted to die.

"I'm really not-" he started again.

"Now, now, Leigh, we don't judge," Niall cut him off, shaking his head at the girl. Then, turning to Liam; "All types of bi-curiousity, bisexuality, pansexuality, polysexuality and fantasies or kinks are accepted, here, Love."

"I'm  _gay_ ," Liam burst out, frustrated.

"Sure you are," Niall winked jovially, patting him on the head. 

There was a moment's silence and Liam squirmed, chewing his lip. People rushed past them with cameras - expensive ones, ones Liam had been eyeing off and definitely couldn't afford - and his nerves made a reappearance, stomach swirling. He wasn't the most socially able person and the situation couldn't really get any worse-

"Shall we start then?"

Fuck.

 

+

Louis grinned as he stepped out of the limouzine, waving and smiling at the people as they caught sight of him. His driver inclined his head as he emerged from the shiny, black car, security guards immediately falling into step a few paces in front of and behind him. 

At twenty-seven, he was the youngest Prime Minister Britain had seen in over two centuries. A total wild card, he'd been voted in for his charisma - and startling sense of genuity (a trait admittedly rare among politicians). Newspapers gushed over him - Louis Thompson, they insisted, was a man that would bring change.

He felt like a fraud.

For all the talk of grandiose schemes and political prowess, Louis still felt like a teenager with a few radical ideas. His last name wasn't even 'Thompson' - his publicity team had decided to change it to sound 'older, more professional'. He was still a kid, really - he didn't know how to be "Louis Thompson, Mister-"

"Mister Prime Minister!"

Louis turned to source the delighted tone as he stepped into his new workplace - and home, he had to remind himself. He smiled in relief at the familiar face; Eleanor Calder, his events planner and senior Personal Assistant. She gave him a wan smile, ticking off something on her trusty clipboard.

"Welcome, Sir," Eleanor grinned. "To your new home. I trust that the ride was smooth?"

Louis nodded hastily, resisting the urge to run a nervous hand back through his hair. "Very smooth," he coughed.

Eleanor's eyes twinkled, sensing his discomfort. "Would you like to meet your house staff?"

Louis grinned, slightly relieved. Eleanor had never failed him yet, and he doubted she would now. "I would like that very much," he told her truthfully.

The brunette lead him along the corridor - the staff stopping and bowing their heads respectfully as he passed - until they reached a large, white door; out the front of which, three people stood. An elderly woman, a middle-aged man, and a man about his own age. 

"This is Mrs Eloise Phillips, your House Keeper," Eleanor started, gesturing to the woman.

Mrs Eloise Phillips, white-haired and blue-eyed with a knowing smile, offered Louis her hand, shaking firmly. "Pleasure to meet you, Sir," she told him pleasantly. 

"Likewise," Louis replied truthfully.

"This is Mister Paul Higgins," Eleanor continued, gesturing to the first man; a middle-aged, brown-headed bloke, firm in posture and expression. "Your Butler."

"I had an uncle called 'Paul' once," Louis said absent-mindedly, shaking the man's hand.

Paul studied him warily, smiling as though he knew he was in for a world of trouble.

"And this is Harry Styles," Eleanor finished with a grin at the boy. "He's new - like you."

Styles... Where _had_ Louis heard that name before?

And then Harry turned and - Good Lord - wasn't that the prettiest thing Louis had ever seen?

He blushed as the thought crossed his mind - though it was true. 'Harry' was 6 feet+ of lean muscle, all dressed up in a well-fitting navy suit, looking like quite the dapper young gentleman. Chocolate brown curls had been pulled back from his face and styled to reveal wide, jade-green eyes.

"Good to meet you, Mr Thompson," Harry smiled.

Louis opened his mouth to reply, but the boy immediately cut him off.

"Shit - I mean 'Sir'," he ammended hastily. His green eyes widened. "And now I've done and said 'shit' - twice."

Louis laughed, sensing the other boy's distress and clapping him on the shoulder. "You're alright," he smiled easily. "You could have said 'fuck' and then we'd have all been in trouble."

Harry chuckled sheepishly, running a hand back through his curls. "Thanks, Sir," he smiled back gratefully - fucking bloody fuck dimples  _fuck._ "I had an awful feeling I was going to fuck up on my first day."

Everyone in the room winced and Harry froze, face paling. The whole room went quiet; atmosphere tense with awkward.

After a moment, Eleanor coughed, turning to Louis. "Come along, then," she smiled. "You've got a lot to see yet, Sir."

With one last comforting smile at Harry, Louis followed the Brunette's lead.

He let her prattle on, smiling and nodding at what he figured were the appropriate times and silently committing the exact colour of Harry's blush to memory.

"...And you're really not listening to me, are you?"

Louis glanced up, blushing. "Of course I am," he lied, smiling. "Laundry, right?" he added, gesturing to the door on their right.

Eleanor's eyebrows rose. "Library," she corrected with a knowing smile.


End file.
